Performance Space 122 and other venues
150 First Ave. at Ninth St.
January 5-29, $20-$30 per performance, $75 passport for five shows, $100 for ten
www.ps122.org
“Fully realized, but on the bleeding front edge” is how P.S. 122 artistic director Vallejo Gartner describes the seventh annual Coil festival of experimental theater and dance, taking place January 5-29 at such venues as the Public Theater, the Baryshnikov Arts Center, the Connelly Theater, the Invisible Dog Art Center, the Old School, and Performance Space 122. Lin Hixson and Matthew Goulish of Every House Has a Door combine Dusan Makavejev, Stanley Cavell, and Ingmar Bergman in Let us think of these things always. Let us speak of them never. Lebanese actor, writer, and director Rabih Mroué will present a pair of politically charged multimedia solo narratives, Looking for a Missing Employee and The Pixelated Revolution. Heather Kravas examines idealized feminine beauty in The Green Surround. Mariano Pensotti’s tragicomic El pasado es un animal grotesco (The past is a grotesque animal), which is also part of the Under the Radar festival, uses a revolving stage and a song by Of Montreal to look at the lives of four Argentinians. Audience members do not have to sit quietly in their seats as Michael Kliën with Steve Valk delves into “the absence of certainty” and other philosophies in Choreography for Blackboards. David Levine expresses his Anger at the Movies, complete with audience involvement, in a theatrical seminar based on YouTube clips sent to him. Temporary Distortion re-creates scenes from television and movie cop dramas and real-life situations in Newyorkland. Young Jean Lee’s Theater Company brings together people from theater, cabaret, dance, and burlesque for a provocative examination of identity in Untitled Feminist Show. And on January 8, Bobby Hernreich will host the annual Red & White Party, featuring Jack Ferver, DJ Spooky, Ping-Pong (Thing Thong), prizes, and more at SPiN New York.
For nearly thirty years, Finnish auteur Aki Kaurismäki (Leningrad Cowboys Go America, The Man Without a Past) has been making existential deadpan black comedies that are often as funny as they are dark and depressing. Has there ever been a film as bleak as 1990’s The Match Factory Girl, in which a young woman (Kati Outinen) suffers malady after malady, tragedy after tragedy, embarrassment after embarrassment, her expression never changing? In his latest film, the thoroughly engaging Le Havre, Kaurismäki moves the setting to a small port town in France, where shoeshine man Marcel Marx (André Wilms), a self-described former Bohemian, worries about his seriously ill wife (Outinen) while trying to help a young African boy (Blondin Miguel), who was smuggled into the country illegally on board a container ship, steer clear of the police, especially intrepid detective Monet (Jean-Pierre Darroussin), who never says no to a snifter of Calvados. Adding elements of French gangster and WWII Resistance films with Godardian undercurrents — he even casts Jean-Pierre Léaud in a small but pivotal role — Kaurismäki wryly examines how individuals as well as governments deal with illegal immigrants, something that has taken on more importance than ever amid the growing international economic crisis and fears of terrorism. Through it all, Marcel remains steadfast and stalwart, quietly and humbly going about his business, deadpan every step of the way. Wouter Zoon’s set design runs the gamut from stark grays to bursts of color, while longtime Kaurismäki cinematographer Timo Salminen shoots scene after scene with a beautiful simplicity. Winner of a Fipresci critics award at Cannes this year and Finland’s official entry for the Best Foreign Language Film Oscar, Le Havre, the first of a proposed trilogy, is another marvelously unusual, charmingly offbeat tale from a master of the form. A selection of the 2011 New York Film Festival, Le Havre is screening January 6 at 6:30 as part of the “Nordic Oscar Contenders” series at Scandinavia House, which begins January 4 with Pernilla August’s Swedish entry, Svinalängorna (Beyond), and concludes January 9 with Anne Sewitsky’s Norwegian drama Sykt lykkelig (Happy, happy).
The Museum of the Moving Image concludes its “See It Big!” series, in which major motion pictures that deserve to be seen on the big screen are shown in the museum’s recently renovated and expanded theater, with one of the most elegantly visual pictures ever made, Stanley Kubrick’s lush, romantic epic, Barry Lyndon. Based on William Makepeace Thackeray’s 1844 serialized picaresque novel The Luck of Barry Lyndon, Kubrick’s extravagant three-hour tale follows the shenanigans of one Redmond Barry, played with endless charm by Ryan O’Neal. The man soon to be known as Barry Lyndon has a remarkable knack for survival — or maybe it’s just plain old Irish luck — as he rises in English society via a series of duels (with epees, guns, and bare knuckles), military battles (the Seven Years’ War), and, most prominently, sexual conquests. Consisting of two sections, “By What Means Redmond Barry Acquired the Style and Title of Barry Lyndon” and “Containing an Account of the Misfortunes and Disasters Which Befell Barry Lyndon,” the film features glorious music by Bach, Vivaldi, Handel, Mozart, Schubert, and the Chieftains in addition to absolutely divine locations and costumes that lay the groundwork for the sumptuous Oscar-winning art direction by Ken Adam, Vernon Dixon, and Roy Walker and cinematography by John Alcott; virtually every scene contains beautiful shots based on famous paintings, a treat for the eyes and the ears. (Leonard Rosenman took home an Academy Award as well for his adapted score.) The overly long story does drag at times, but it flows better once you get used to O’Neal in the title role. The underappreciated film also has a great supporting cast, with Marisa Berenson as Lady Lyndon, Patrick Magee as the Chevalier de Balibari, Hardy Krüger as Captain Potzdorf, Steven Berkoff as Lord Ludd, Leonard Rossiter as Captain John Quin, and Gay Hamilton as Nora Brady. The Museum of the Moving Image is screening a restored 35mm print of Barry Lyndon on December 30 at 7:00 and January 1 at 6:00.
Canadian-born director James Cameron (The Terminator, Aliens, The Abyss, and some movie about a big sinking ship) crafts an expensive, high-tech apology to native people the world over in the futuristic adventure thriller Avatar. Borrowing elements from such films as The Matrix, Alien, the Lord of the Rings trilogy, the Star Wars saga, Disney’s animated Pocohantas, Reign of Fire, and many a cowboy-and-Indian tale, Cameron propels audiences into 2154, where a team of scientists join up with military troops on Pandora, home to the invaluable mineral unobtainium as well as a native race known alternately as the na’vi, or the People. In the middle of it all is Jake Sully (Sam Worthington), a wheelchair-bound former Marine who takes the place of his brilliant brother, who was recently murdered. While head researcher Dr. Grace Augustine (Sigourney Weaver) thinks bringing Jake on board is a mistake, Col. Miles Quaritch (Stephen Lang) sees it as an opportunity to make use of Jake’s expert reconnaissance skills, so Jake takes over what would have been his brother’s avatar — a giant creation modeled after the na’vi that humans can operate from a pod while asleep and that gives Jake the opportunity to walk again through this tall blue being. Quaritch secretly promises Jake that he will get him the costly procedure that will give him back the use of his real legs if he infiltrates the na’vi and sends intel back to the colonel as the military prepares an all-out assault on the People, but when Jake falls for the beautiful Neytiri (Zoë Saldaña), he undergoes a change of heart. As with most Cameron films, the visual splendor is thwarted by a tired, clichéd script that devolves into complete silliness in the last half hour, spurred on by James Horner’s treacly score and plenty of poorly delivered lines. But Avatar is still lots of stupid fun, especially if you see it in 3D, as it is being shown December 29 at the Museum of the Moving Image as part of the “See It Big!” series, which concludes December 30 and January 1 with Stanley Kubrick’s lush and elegant Barry Lyndon.
While here in America, Christmas movie traditions tend to be on the more sappy side, like the treacly It’s a Wonderful Life, Miracle on 34th St., or any one of a number of updated versions of A Christmas Carol, France has a very different idea of what qualifies as a holiday favorite. Le père Noël est une ordure, also known as Santa Stinks (or the closer translation Father Christmas Is a Bastard), has been a cult classic going on thirty years now. The no-holds-barred seasonal slapstick satire is the creation of Jean-Marie Poiré and the members of the popular Le Splendid café-théâtre company, who spend a New Year’s Eve together like you’ve never seen before. Thérèse (Anémone) and Pierre (Thierry Lhermitte) work at a suicide-prevention hotline, but they are not very good at helping lonely, depressed people, as shown early on when a man calls from a phone booth and quickly puts a bullet in his head when no one at the SOS Detresse Amitié really listens to him. Meanwhile, their cranky coworker, Madame Musquin (Josiane Balasko), gets trapped in an elevator, desperate to get to her Christmas Eve dinner; young transvestite Katia (Christian Clavier) stops by looking for a little love; neighbor Preskovic (Bruno Moynot) keeps bringing over the most disgusting homemade treats imaginable; and low-level crook Félix (Gérard Jugnot) wanders around in a Santa suit, chasing rabbits and wielding a gun while his pregnant wife, the obnoxiously chatty Josette (Marie-Anne Chazel), does everything she can to get away from him while also commenting on all the fun. Le père Noël est une ordure has no sympathy for the holiday season, instead reveling in low-grade humor, over-the-top violence, and surprising plot twists that are not at all what you’d expect from a Christmas movie. With that in mind, MoMA has chosen to present the U.S. theatrical premiere of this French farce with a one-week run beginning December 28 so as not to ruin your Christmas celebration. (And to further save you from potential ruination, be sure to pay no attention whatsoever to Nora Ephron’s all-star 1994 dud, Mixed Nuts, which was loosely based on Le père Noël est une ordure.)